


14:12

by tfa2141



Series: Family Matters [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Also Amenadiel is kind of awful in this one, Also includes Lucifer's mother, Happy Ending (mostly), Lots of Angst, Some Lucifer Whump, because that's always fun, my bad - Freeform, some fluff here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfa2141/pseuds/tfa2141
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to Hair Trigger, and essentially my take on what could happen in Season 2. </p><p>Lucifer's mother makes her way to Earth, and she's got a bone to pick with her favorite son. Meanwhile, Lucifer discovers some uncomfortable things about the nature of his relationship with Chloe and just how deep his protective instinct runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freed

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE:  
> This is part two of a series I already started, so while it’s not completely necessary to read the first part, some things I’ve written here work best if you have a prior knowledge of how I set up this particular storyline.
> 
> Thanks, and hopefully you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

_Isaiah 14:9-12:_

_9_ _Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations._

 **_10_ ** _All they shall speak and say unto thee, Art thou also become weak as we? art thou become like unto us?_

 **_11_ ** _Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee._

 _12_ **_How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!_ **

 

 

From a rooftop far above the streets of Los Angeles, Lucifer’s mother crossed her arms and sighed, basking in the cool of the night air. As a cloud of thin white smoke began to encircle her, she tapped away the ash gathering at the end of her cigarette and watched the breeze take it into the streets below.

_How good it is to be free._

She scoffed as she perceived a figure behind her in the shadows. “I see you failed the task I assigned you.”

From the darkness emerged a pale-faced man, hunched forward and shaking. “I… I was told he could be killed with mortal weapons,” he began. Reaching into his jacket, he produced a small revolver and handed it to her.

Charlotte took the weapon in her hands, turning it over in her hands. Looking down the barrel, she took count of the remaining rounds in the cylinder. “Only one round? Surely you could have made sure he stayed dead,” she chided.

Spinning the cylinder, she clicked it leisurely back into place and sighed. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” Pulling back the hammer with incredible speed, she raised the weapon and fired a single round between the man’s eyes before he could react, hearing the bullet hit home in the back of his skull with a dull click.

“So easily manipulated, but so weak of will,” she noted. Bending to pick up the spent shell casing, she wiped the entire revolver of her prints - as if they could be traced anyway - before pressing the weapon into the man’s hand.

Moving to the ledge where she had deposited her cigarette, she used a red polished nail to send it off the edge and down into the quiet streets below. With a last breath of the night air, the Devil’s mother turned and vanished into the shadows.

There was much work to be done.


	2. 9

The elevator rang out its warning as Lucifer stepped out and into his penthouse, basked in the amber glow of the newly restored whiskey wall.

“Looks like someone had a rough day,” Maze offered from behind the bar. She peeled a green apple sliver by sliver with her pocket knife, never bothering to look up to catch his response as he took a seat at the marble counter.

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” he shot back, reaching for a glass and a bottle of scotch.

In an instant, the pocket knife was jabbed between his hand and the scotch, effectively sealing him off and startling him out of his ministrations. “Lucifer, that’s 25-year old aged scotch. It’s for special occasions, not for drinking the entire thing by yourself.”

Irritated, he flicked the blade of the knife away and grudgingly released his grip on the bottle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Any more rules you’d like to enforce, mum?” Satisfied with the silence that came from his demon, Lucifer retrieved his jacket from the stool next to him and retired to his bedroom.

Maze ran her nails over the surface of the bar in contemplation for a few moments, but ultimately decided that the best course of action would be to continue peeling her apple - which she did, albeit with slightly more pressure on the cuts.

  
  


His cell phone rang at exactly 7:12 the next morning, earning a frustrated groan from the Devil. Fumbling on the nightstand, he managed to swat the device soundly across the room and into the wall near his closet, silencing it for the time being. Dropping his head back down into the pillows with a contented sigh, he prepared for a few extra minutes of sleep.

_ Or seconds.  _ With another ring, he climbed grudgingly out of bed and retrieved his cell phone from the floor. Peering at the caller ID, a smile crept across his face. “You know, I was really hoping you would let me take a day off, Detective. Although I never really complain about lack of sleep. Never really do much of that anyways, what with my busy extracurricular schedule,” he smirked.

“Okay, we get it. Listen, I’m gonna need you to come in to the station today. We have a pretty nasty case I could use your help on.”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. “Nasty is my specialty, Detective,” he purred. “What’s your poison?”

“You’re killing me slowly, for starters. And I’m getting older every minute I stand here and wait for you to hurry up and get over to the precinct,” she shot back. “Meet me in half an hour.”

And with that, she hung up, leaving the Devil to stare slack-jawed at the phone, mentally running a list of the things he needed to do in such a short amount of time. “No time to press the suit jacket then,” he grumbled as he slid open the closet doors.

  
  


The early morning light bounced off of the buildings downtown, trapping the heat and revealing a grisly scene. A man with golden hair lay flat on his back on the pavement, eyes fixed in permanent terror, low-cut white t-shirt stained with blood from a single stab wound to his heart. His arms were splayed out to either side and his legs were bent underneath at a crooked angle, revealing a dark-colored tattoo on the inside of his ankle.

“Isaiah Stone, age 28, desk manager at the hotel a few blocks from here,” Chloe read from the file.

“He certainly had good taste in amenities. I used to frequent the club upstairs before I owned Lux. Great  _ entertaining  _ space,” Lucifer teased.

Chloe was certain that if she rolled her eyes any harder, she would have heard them drop into the back of her skull. She turned to a nearby uniform. “Who reported the victim?”

“A contractor working in the building next to this one saw his car parked halfway on the sidewalk over there with the door open when he came into work early this morning. He looked around for the owner, and found him here. Immediately called it in.”

Lucifer stooped to observe the body and noticed the tattoo on the man’s ankle. With a grudgingly gloved hand - he hated the purple nitrile gloves with every fiber of his being - he pulled down the edge of his shoe to get a better look at the whole image.

What he saw sent a chill down his spine.

_ It can’t be,  _ he thought.  _ Not so soon after- _

With a shaky breath, he stood and rejoined the Detective, who was finishing interviewing the contractor.

“Okay, thanks. Here’s my card, if you think of anything else give me a call.” She watched as the man walked away, clearly shaken a bit by the scene he’d discovered. “Find anything good over there?”

Perhaps a bit too quickly, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not really the expert here, Detective,” he forced. “Care to lend me a hand?”

She paused a moment, perplexed by the uncommon occurrence of his request for help. “Yeah, sure,” she replied. “Let’s go take a look.”

  
  
  


After a thorough investigation of the victim and the surrounding scene, they were no closer to finding any leads. Chloe graciously accepted a bottle of water one of the uniformed officers had brought over, and with a sigh took a drink. “How are you still wearing a full suit, Lucifer? It’s like a million degrees out here.”

He willed himself to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest and gave a smoldering mask of a grin, running a hand through his hair and looking ever the model as he leaned against the wall opposite her. “Trust me, I’m very familiar with the heat.”

Chloe nearly choked on her water.

A small scuffle erupted nearby, and the two turned their heads to see officers fighting off someone trying to cross the police line. Motioning for Lucifer to follow, they got within earshot of the conversation.

“Let me see him! I’m his partner, I deserve to know what happened to him! Oh, God, Isaiah- “

“I’d recommend you direct your pleas elsewhere, chap. I’m afraid he’s not a very good listener,” Lucifer interjected.

Chloe placed an arm across his chest and gave him a small shove backwards. “Hey, guys, let him through.” The officers grudgingly moved out of the way, shooting seemingly unnoticed glares at the sharply-dressed young man who had crashed the scene.

Now clear of the obstruction, the man fell to his knees at the sight of the victim on the pavement just beyond the yellow tape. Burying his head in his hands, he broke down in quiet sobs, shoulders shaking as he cried. The detective bent down and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, understanding the kind of pain he was going through. After a few moments, the man recovered his composure and rose to his feet, eyes still red and tear-filled. “I’m so sorry, I just- I didn’t believe it was him,” he managed. “I’m Thomas, by the way. I was his...  _ partner _ .”

“What can you tell us about Isaiah?” Chloe started him with an easy question, hoping it would lead into some information that might be useful to them.

“We were together for almost four years. He was the kindest person I’d ever met - sympathetic down to his roots. I don’t think he was even capable of feeling resentment towards anyone or anything. He was in social work for a while, but ultimately it was too much for him to see the people he worked so hard to help destroy themselves. I don’t know who could have possibly had something to prove by killing him like this.”

“We’ll find who did this, Thomas,” the detective assured him. She fished a card out of her pocket and handed it to the distraught young man. “If you think of anything else, please give me a call. We’ll let you know if we find anything else out.”

As officers led him gently away from the scene, Chloe turned to face her partner. “Forensics will process the car, see if they can’t find anything that might give us a starting point. For now,” she sighed, “I think it’s time we call it a day. There isn’t anything else to see here.”

Lucifer nodded and trailed behind as they walked out to the detective’s car, uncharacteristically silent as he ducked under the yellow tape and followed her closely.


	3. Chapter 3

_ The City of Angels,  _ she laughed.  _ More like fallen angels. _

Whistling a haunting tune, the Mother of Darkness stalked down one of the many dark alleys lining the downtown area of Los Angeles. 

A young man, no more than 30 - she guessed, although human aging was  _ so inconvenient  _ \- with his hands in his pockets approached his car and fumbled with his keys. 

_ Nervous _ , Charlotte sensed.  _ This one will be a nice calling card. _

She fiddled with the dagger tucked away in her back pocket as she approached the car, and with a snap of her fingers the streetlights above them went out.

A single shout bled into the night, the origin unseen and the noise unheard by passersby as the Devil’s mother went to work.

_ It’s a trail, my boy. And each trail has a beginning and an end. _

 

 

“Autopsy report came back on Isaiah Stone,” Chloe started. Peering across her desk at Lucifer, who was absentmindedly playing with her pencil cup, she snapped her fingers to try and get his attention. “Hey.”

Her partner whipped his head around, dropping the pen he was dismantling and folding his hands neatly in his lap. “Yes?”

The detective wondered if everything she said went in one ear and out the other with him.

“I said, we got the autopsy report back for our first victim. No drugs or alcohol in his system, and there was no DNA to be recovered that could have matched his attacker. Whoever did this to him knew how to disappear without a trace,” she frowned. “From what the victim’s partner told us, Isaiah wasn’t one to be confrontational and likely wouldn’t have provoked an attack - which means that someone targeted him.”

She handed the case file to Lucifer, who flipped through several of the photos from the report. “What about the tattoo on the chap’s ankle?” He offered as nonchalantly as possible.

The detective narrowed her eyes. “What tattoo?”

 

Minutes later, Chloe was pacing in the coroner’s office, shaking her head as she stared down at the photograph the medical examiner had taken of the insignia on Isaiah’s leg. “I can’t believe I missed this,” she sighed. Holding out the photo so Lucifer could see it clearly, the two were able to make out the image of a winged angel, bound in chains, and bordered by the text “14:9”.

“I think we need to talk to Thomas again. See if maybe Isaiah had any religious motivations that could have gotten him in trouble with our assailant.”

Lucifer peered at her, eyebrows raised. “Do you really think a tattoo is going to guide us to our killer?”

“It’s our only lead to go off of right now,” she quipped. “So unless you have a better idea, we need to pay our victim’s partner a visit.”

“I have some better ideas all right,” he smirked. 

“Just get in the car, Lucifer.”

 

 

“Thank you for meeting with us, Thomas.”

The man shuffled around in his kitchen, still in his pajamas and fumbling with a pot of tea. “Of course, Detectives. Anything to try and find out who did this to my Isaiah,” he offered sadly. Filling three mugs, he placed one in front of both Lucifer and Chloe before taking a seat on the couch opposite them with his. Lucifer took a long drink of his, and the detective squinted her eyes at seeing him drink something other than alcohol. “What can I help you with?”

Chloe opened the case file to the photo of Isaiah’s ankle and slid it across the small coffee table in the middle of the room to Thomas, who tentatively picked it up. “We were hoping you could tell us a little about this tattoo Isaiah had. It’s not much to go on, but we figured that whoever attacked him could have been religiously motivated by the image.”

Thomas frowned and handed the file back to the detective. “This can’t be Isaiah,” he stated.

“I know it’s hard to look at, but just try to remember for us- “

The man waved his hand and cut her off. “No, I mean this  _ isn’t  _ Isaiah. He didn’t have any tattoos.”

Chloe exchanged a sidelong glance with her partner, who was suspiciously quiet and simultaneously looked less confused than everyone else in the room. “Are you sure? Could he have gotten it without your knowledge?”

He shook his head. “His job didn’t allow it. And more than that, Isaiah wasn’t religious in any way.”

The detective stood, offering a small nod to the victim’s partner before moving for the door. “Thank you, Thomas, this helps a lot.”

“Of course, Detectives. Just- please find who did this,” he pleaded. “He deserves closure.”

The pair nodded and made their way out the door, closing it quietly behind them. As they moved for the car, Lucifer stopped in his tracks, in a moment realizing something. “Detective, can I see that file again?”

Chloe cocked her head but handed the folder over, unsure of what exactly he’d come up with. “What’s the matter?”

He hastily thumbed through the pages until he came to the picture of the mark on the victim’s ankle. Spinning it so it faced her, he indicated the design with his finger. “He didn’t have any  _ tattoos _ , right?”

As they both stared at the photograph, the mark became clearer and clearer until Chloe’s eyes widened in surprise. “It was a brand,” she breathed. “You’re definitely on to something. This could help in determining when the image was placed on our victim, which would give us an updated time of death and maybe a location on the tool used to do this.”

“And you say I’m not useful,” he smirked.

“Useful and  _ pain in the ass  _ are two different things. Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before things get interesting, so bear with me! I love seeing the support from you guys so keep that coming if you're enjoying it so far!


	4. The Devil's Mark

A week later, they were no closer to finding out the killer - one, who it seems, had struck again before they regained their balance. A second victim had been found, killed in the same manner and bearing a similar brand on his right ankle. 

 

Chloe sighed, leaning back in her desk chair. “Leave it to me to work the case with no end,” she grumbled. 

Lucifer sauntered up to her desk and dropped a paper cup of coffee in front of her. “Pick me up?”

Taking it graciously, she mumbled a soft appreciation into the lid of the cup.

“Sorry, what was that?” he smirked

She opened her mouth to shoot back a reply, but was cut off by a uniformed officer peeking her head around the corner. “Decker, Monroe has a lead on that case of yours she wants you to check out.”

“Okay, thanks,” she replied, giving Lucifer a sound swat on the arm when she noticed him checking out the female cop as she crossed the room back to her station

“Jealous of me browsing the menu, Detective?

“How about I not dignify that with an answer, and we instead go and find out where this murder trail leads?

He grinned, knowing he’d gotten the best of her once again, but followed obediently behind as they walked to the lieutenant’s office.

  
  
  


It wasn’t much to go on, but the detective was glad for the tip nonetheless.

Shortly after the calculated time of death for the second victim, an anonymous witness had reported seeing lights on and loud music coming from an old house not far from the crime scene. They noted that the home had no owner, and hadn’t for several years, drifting in and out of the property market. 

 

Later that night, the pair drove across town to the address mentioned in the phone call. The porch light wasn’t on, the detective observed - and more than that, the socket didn’t even have a bulb in it. Frowning, she pulled out her phone and shone the light on the numbers by the front door to confirm they had the correct house.

“You’re not going to believe this.” Chloe gestured to the brass numbers, where two small red dots had been meticulously painted on between the set. “14:11.”

Lucifer peered at it closely, clearing his throat of the uncomfortable lump that came with the realization that the trail was leading them ever closer to his mother. “The really unbelievable part is that this got past inspections by the homeowner’s association.”

She hit him on the shoulder. “This is serious, Lucifer. This could be our killer, and from what we know, they don’t play nice.” Drawing her weapon, she moved to the front door and knocked loudly, only to find that it was unlocked and ajar.

The detective gently pushed the door all the way open, hoping to make as little noise as possible. She stepped inside, her partner following closely behind.

An old record player sat on a table in the living room, loudly playing a shrill and eerie tune that sent a chill down their spines. The room itself was lit by sparsely-placed candles, and the kitchen sink dripped water lazily into its stainless-steel basin. Lucifer noted that the entire house smelled like a woman’s rose perfume mixed with a touch of burnt wood - the eerily characteristic smell he remembered his mother having. Except for a few personal objects here and there, the place seemed empty and unused. He swiped a finger across one of the shelves and noted that it was covered in a thin layer of dust.

“There doesn’t seem to be anybody home,” Chloe observed. “Spread out and check the rooms for any signs of our killer. There has to be something worth finding if we were led here.”

Lucifer nodded and retreated through the kitchen to the wing of rooms to the south. The first was a bedroom, which looked like it hadn’t ever been slept in. It was cold and dark, and wholly uninviting. He closed the door just as it had been opened, and proceeded on to the next. The room adjacent to it on the left was a bathroom, the perfume scent stronger in here than in the living room. The shower looked as though it had recently been used, as the tile was still slightly damp in the low spots of the floor. He opened the drawers and found nothing of significance, save for a bottle of dark crimson nail polish. He turned it over in his hands and chuckled at the color name printed on the bottom -  _ Eden Apple.  _ “Never could resist some good old-fashioned irony,” he muttered to himself.

“Find anything?” Chloe called down the hallway.

He shut the drawer and poked his head out of the bathroom. “Nothing worthwhile,” he answered. “Although I’ve yet to finish with my side. I haven’t checked that last room yet.”

The detective nodded and the pair moved to clear the last room. There was a noticeable temperature drop at the end of the hallway, and as Lucifer placed his hand on the doorknob, he observed that for the first time on a case, his partner looked nervous. “I think you ought to let me go first on this one, Detective,” he coaxed. She stepped out of the way and he began to turn the knob. As he pushed open the door, they were both horrified at what they saw.

Smeared in a dark red on the walls were the numbers from the previous crime scenes, one to the first two walls and the third and fourth covered in a crimson sheet. 14:9. 14:10. The floor was littered with newspaper clippings bearing information from the other murders, and an unlit candle rested in the center of the room. Lucifer went to turn on the light to find that the switch didn’t work.

Chloe panned her flashlight around the room, taking in the scene. Some of the paint and wallpaper had been peeled off the walls, and in some spots the wood foundation was visible, giving a faint scent of damp sawdust to the entire area. “Can you believe this?”

Her partner was busy staring at an intricate logo painted on the wall behind the door that Chloe hadn’t noticed when they walked in. He knew the insignia from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it - it was different from the ones on the victims, but similar all at the same time. The detective’s question broke him out of his thoughts, and he shook his head in astonishment. She snapped a few photos of the scene before calling it in to dispatch. “Okay, let’s get out of here. I’ll have forensics check everything for prints. Someone was here recently.”

Lucifer nodded in agreement and the pair made their way outside to wait for reinforcements. Deciding to have a smoke to calm his nerves, he leaned back against the Detective’s cruiser and flicked out his lighter, now noticing the way his hands were shaking. His fingers brushed against the small engraving on the backplate of the object as he tried and failed several times to light the cigarette.

He turned the silver-plated igniter over in his hands as he did often when he was nervous and realized just where he’d seen the symbol on the wall before - it was branded into the very thing he now held between his fingers.

 

The mark of the Devil.

As calmly as he could, he placed the lighter back into his pocket as Chloe approached him, hoping he didn’t arouse any suspicion from her.

“We’ll get the results back pretty soon. If you want to wait around we can, it shouldn’t take long,” she offered.

“I think I’ll go home, actually, Detective. I- “ He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to hide the way they shook. It felt like he’d swallowed a pill without any water, a lump stuck in the back of his throat that he couldn’t get rid of. “I have some business to take care of.”

She stepped in front of him, eyes searching his face for some explanation. “Seriously? I know you’re not patient, but this is weird for you, Lucifer.” Placing a hand on his chest to stop him from walking away, she noticed his rapid heartbeat. “Your heart’s racing - are you okay?”

He nodded as nonchalantly as he could manage and pushed her hand away. “I’m fine. But do call me when you get the results, alright?” He knew when the words left his mouth that they were too fast, too rushed, anxious - but she nodded and stepped aside begrudgingly as he walked away.

As he got into his car, she noticed a shiny silver object on the ground near her feet. Stooping to pick it up, she realized it was his lighter and made a mental note to return it to him later. She closed the lid and brushed some of the dust off of the cover where it had fallen in the dirt, revealing the engraving on the side.

She pulled out her phone and held up the photo of the painting on the wall next to the lighter, eyes widening as she made the connection.  _ Why does he have this symbol on his lighter? And what does it mean? _

_ Was he lying to her about something? _

Frustrated, she locked her phone with a click and tossed the lighter in her pocket as she hastily made the drive over to Lux, hoping that the feeling in her gut was wrong about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it doesn't feel like I rushed through the case aspect too quickly, but I really wanted to move the plot forward because I know too much case buildup can get boring - it really gets good from here, I promise!


	5. Revelations

The elevator signaled her arrival with its bright  _ ping  _ and Lucifer turned from his place at the bar to face the Detective as she stormed in. With his glass in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, he checked his watch questioningly. “That was awfully quick for those incompetent technicians to process the scene. What do we have?”

Chloe shook her head. “That’s not what I’m here for.” She held up the lighter from her pocket. “Missing something important?”

He cocked his head to the side, for once unsure what to say. “I have about three of them in that drawer, so not really.” His blinding grin returned, trying to hide the discomfort that was creeping through his chest.

The detective gave a bitter laugh. “Okay, I’m done playing games here. What the  _ hell  _ is going on with you, Lucifer?”

Crossing the room, he put down his drink on the side table with a forced chuckle. “I suppose that is the ultimate question now isn’t it?”

“You know what I mean.” She stepped closer to him, and despite their obvious height difference Lucifer couldn’t help but feel like he was being cornered - and Chloe noticed the smile fade off of his face. “You know more than you’re letting on about this case, I can tell. What is it you’re hiding?”

The smile faded off of his face as he sighed deeply. “You might want to sit down for this, Detective.” He handed her the cup of tea he’d brewed - knowing it was her favorite kind, he’d purchased a box for his cabinet in the hopes he’d get to use it one day - and crossed over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room and began to search through the stacks for a particular novel.

Chloe took the cup carefully, temper waning and a smile threatening as she realized he’d remembered the time she mentioned her favorite tea in passing, sinking down into the couch with a half-hearted eye roll. “Fine. As long as you tell me the whole truth about this.”

He stopped rifling through the shelf for a moment and turned to look over his shoulder at her. Standing up straight, he turned completely. “Remember what I told you that night we watched that low-life biker shoot Cutter?”

She nodded – to be fair, not a day of his antics went by without recalling the way he’d said those words to her. The honesty in his voice had shaken her resolve.

 

“ _ I have never lied to you. And I will never lie to you.” _

 

“Nothing’s changed, Detective. I still mean what I said.”

“Then tell me what's really going on.”

He produced a thick, ancient-looking leather-bound book and blew a considerable amount of dust off of the cover. “Never had much use for this thing anyway,” he quipped as he set it on the table in front of her.

Looking down, she could see that an ornate-looking gold cross was printed on the front – a Bible, of all things. “Lucifer, if this is another of your games –“

He waved her off. “I promise this will start to make things a little clearer.” He leaned back in his chair and watched as she thumbed through the book. “Do you know how to… navigate one of those?”

“I haven’t picked up a Bible recently, but yeah,” she answered. “What exactly am I looking for?”

“Isaiah,” he sighed. “Chapter 14, verses 9 through 12.”

After reacquainting herself with the layout, she found the desired page and began looking it over. “14:9, 14:10 – these all match the numbers on the brands of the victims so far, and the walls at the scene we just investigated.”

Lucifer gave a wistful smile. “And Isaiah was the name of our first victim. But look past the obvious, Detective. Do the words look familiar to you?”

She nodded, recalling briefly her Sunday school education that had long since been pushed to the back of her mind. “But what does this have to do with anything? Any religious fanatic can quote Bible verses as justification for their actions.”

“Read deeper. Remember, 9 through  _ 12 _ . What’s the only one we haven’t seen yet?”

She paused, scanning over the words printed on the page and refused to believe what she saw written there next. Tentatively, she read the words out loud. “’How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!’”

He swallowed, waiting for her to put the pieces together. She scanned the text again, not believing the answer printed right in front of her.

“ _ Lucifer, son of the morning _ ,” she quoted. “This wasn’t meant for us. It was meant for you.”

 

With a sad nod, he raised his glass to her. “Spot on as always, Detective.”

“I don’t get it though,” she replied. “Someone is committing these brutal murders and then leaving a calling card meant for only you to understand. And what about the mark on your lighter that matched the one at the crime scene?”

“Someone knew that I could put the pieces together,” he answered.

“Lucifer, that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But answering that question, and frankly even having this conversation with you, puts you and your family in a danger you can’t possibly begin to comprehend. And I’m not willing to take that risk.”

He went to take a drink from his glass, but Chloe swiped it off of the table before he could reach it. “No.”

Lucifer looked at her with a sadness in his eyes. “No, what?”

“No more avoiding this. No more dancing around the question, or trying to throw me off track. If I’m in danger, I need to know what it’s from, Lucifer.”

He swallowed hard before beginning.

“That night in the hangar with Malcolm – when he shot me, I died, you saw it happen with your own eyes. And when I did, I went back to Hell for the briefest of moments, because as it turns out, my Father wanted to show me something. Now my brother Amenadiel and some of his cohorts had been keeping tabs on my old home, so to speak. And when I died and he was gravely injured, that left an  _ opening  _ of sorts. A window of opportunity, if you will, when neither I nor my brother were in a position to stop any attempts of the damned souls to wreak havoc down there, or Father forbid, escape to the mortal world.”

He leaned forward in his chair, as if somehow getting closer to Chloe would make his words easier to understand for her.

“Now I know you don’t believe me  _ yet _ about who I am or where I came from, but you need to know this – someone very powerful has escaped from Hell, and is no doubt trying to track me down and get their retribution for all the punishment I conferred upon them for all these millennia. And I’m worried that these crimes, these  _ notes _ that are being left for me, are indicators that precisely that is what’s going on. Which means that the closer you are to me, the more likely you are to be a target,” he stated sadly. “Or worse, collateral damage of my own downfall. We’re on 14:11, Detective. We don’t have much more time.”

He sighed. “And the brand on my lighter is the mark of the Devil - the one that became synonymous with my name after I fell.”

She slid his drink back over to him.

“But I suppose that’s still not the answer you were looking for, is it? You want a name to go with the folklore.”

Chloe regarded him as she would a wounded animal - not pressing him for more information and willing him not to fight back from where he was cornered - but she knew that if she sat still long enough and waited patiently, he would give her the answer.

And he did.

 

“Her name is Charlotte. My mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you guys have a lovely cliffhanger for the next couple of days while I'm out of town! I wish I could say I'm sorry but I figure you need some suspense :)
> 
> Don't worry- next chapter has some good Deckerstar moments that'll make it worth your while.


	6. Scars

The rain splashed on the pavement, collecting in the uneven roads and providing a mirror for the glow of the shifting streetlights in the fading afternoon light. The normally raucous street crowd of a Saturday night was nowhere to be found, seeking shelter from the downpour like it was a plague, a few young and carefree partygoers excepted.

Lucifer had checked his phone for any messages about the case before heading back downstairs to see to the remaining crowd, leaning back against the bar as Maze clacked her nails on the countertop absentmindedly. “We should really just kick these people out. They’re not good business,” she grumbled.

“All business is good business, Maze - well, most of the time anyway. And besides, what kind of hosts would we be if we just threw these poor souls out in the rain like dogs?”

 

Maze scoffed, crossing her arms to glare at him. “Have it your way. But if these dogs make a mess on the floor, you’re cleaning it up.” With a huff, she turned and retreated to the back.

“Stubborn as ever,” the Devil remarked, raising his glass to take a long and well-deserved drink. As he put the crystal to his lips, he was suddenly aware of an eerie silence in the room. With a hesitant pause, he put the glass down and was faced with a bar now inexplicably empty of patrons.

A scuffle behind him caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up, and he spun to find that he was no longer in Lux - the room around him was dark and cold, yet some part of it tugged at a long-forgotten memory in the back of his mind. A phantom touch ghosted on his arm and he instinctively grabbed at the air around him, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

He took a deep breath, steadying his drumming heartbeat and tuning in for any clues as to where he was. The silence seemed to whisper at him, and gradually the noises morphed into comprehensible words.

“Do you feel at home here, brother?”

It was only then that Lucifer realized he’d kept his eyes closed, and he snapped them open to come face to face with Amenadiel.

“You bloody meddling angel, where am I?”

The look on his brother’s face was dark, not altogether different from his own, he realized. “I’ve brought you back to where you belong so that we can settle the problem of our mother once and for all, Luci. You wouldn’t cooperate, so I had to drag you here myself.”

All at once, the room became clear and open, and suddenly he was back in hell - the ash falling down around him and the screams of the damned echoing through his very soul.

_ How could you take me away from them? _

Blinded by rage, Lucifer swung at his brother, only to have his punch met by a sound counter of Amenadiel’s own. With a hand on the fallen angel’s chest, his brother pushed him down and across the floor a safe distance away. Lucifer was stronger with his wings, but without them he was only reckless and angry, striking for power and not precision, attacks easily defended.

“I don’t want to fight you, brother,” he coaxed. “We can only fix this together.”

The Devil chuckled, brushing his suit off as he regained his feet. “Let’s not forget, Mum only escaped because you decided to sleep on the job. I never needed you.”

In a fury, the two exchanged words and blows each to match the other, Amenadiel striking Lucifer with the sharp points of his wings, his fists, his fingernails, slicing through his brother’s shirt and jacket and tearing at the sensitive skin of his back. The Devil cried out in pain and fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the hurt that coursed through his scars like he had touched hot iron. He ran a hand over his shoulder blade, eyes widening at the sight of the blood that pooled from the fresh cuts there. In the blink of an eye, Amenadiel crossed the room and brandished his wings like a blade under the fallen angel’s jawline, ensuring that any movement would end in pain for him.

“You’re becoming mortal, Luci. Maybe I should just finish you off once and for all. It would make this easier for all of us,” he threatened.

“You wouldn’t,” he spat. “As much as you hate me, we’re still brothers, Amenadiel. And I will finish this, with or without you.”

“What do you aim to accomplish, Lucifer? Because this isn’t how you will get it - not by fighting me and certainly not by making more enemies.”

The Devil stared straight into his brother’s eyes, broken and defiant all at once. Amenadiel scoffed, finally taking a step back away from the man on the floor in front of him. Lucifer rubbed at his neck, glad to be free of the pressure from the angel’s sharp wings. 

“I should have known, brother. You want redemption. But I’m not sure you even know what that means anymore.”

With a laugh and a snap of the angel’s fingers, Lucifer found himself back in his penthouse, lying on the marble floor as if the whole ordeal had never occurred.

“Angels,” he huffed.

 

For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps the incident had been nothing more than a hallucination of sorts, a manifestation of his guilt, anything - until he found himself nearly crippled by the pain from his newly reopened scars. With great difficulty, he pulled himself to his knees and began to make his way slowly across the floor. He took a seat on the piano bench, wincing in pain as he peeled the dress shirt off of his back, feeling the fabric stick to the torn skin beneath. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his teeth and pulled as hard as he could, separating the two layers with one swift movement. He turned his head into his shoulder, trying to muffle the pained shout that came with it, but failed miserably.

Relaxing his arms, he let the cuffs catch around his wrists before undoing the small buttons there to let the shirt finally fall to the floor. Pinching the bridge of his nose in pained defeat, he lay his head in his hands, content to let the cool temperature of the room relax some of the pain from his wounds. Casting a sidelong glance at the light blue shirt resting in a heap nearby, he noticed the extent of the dark red stains that marred the back of the garment.

“ _ Bloody  _ hell.”

With a gentle tone, the elevator announced its arrival in the penthouse and Lucifer spun to face it with an irritated expression that quickly faded when he spotted the Detective. Snapping back as best as he could into his carefree persona, he shot her a casual glance. “Come for a midnight snack, then?”

“I think you know the answer without having to ask, Lucifer,” she replied.

“Couldn’t hurt to try,” he offered with a grin. Crossing his arms, he leaned casually away from her as she moved around the bar to hide the injury on his back. “Long time no talk, although I have to admit I always like to have you back here. What’s the latest update?”

She furrowed her brows. “I finally got to look at the results from forensics on Isaiah Stone’s car from the first scene - almost had to bribe the guy at the print center to do it after hours. I thought it would be good for you to go over them with me, see if you can pick out any connections I wouldn’t have made. Fresh eyes and the whole deal.” Pausing a beat, she let a smile play at the corners of her mouth. “And do you always play the piano shirtless?”

He forced a laugh. “I- Well, I wasn’t really expecting company. But if you’d like me to...”

As she circled around behind him to get to the couch, he scrambled in his seat, trying to keep his back averted to her, but failed miserably at being nonchalant about the effort. When she took a step sideways, he shuffled a few inches - and eventually she caught on like the good detective she was. Pausing for a moment, she narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re practically tying yourself in knots trying to hide something from me.” She took a few steps closer to him and he knew he was well and truly caught in her trap. Giving way to the inevitable, he sighed quietly and turned around, allowing her to see what had transpired.

She gasped softly, trying not to startle him. “What happened, Lucifer?” She moved slowly over to the edge of the piano so that she was face to face with him, and carefully took one of his hands in her own. It was more for her own security, really - she wanted to restrain herself from involuntarily touching his scars, as she nearly had once before.

He kept his gaze locked firmly on the floor, unwilling to meet her eyes and fearing that he might break if he did. “It’s nothing, really,” he whispered, knowing that it wasn’t the answer she wanted - but maybe if he could avoid the truth a bit longer, he could keep her safe from it.

“That’s not nothing,” she remarked softly. “ _ Nothing _ is a papercut or a scraped knee. I have an eight-year old, I should know.” Offering him a warm smile, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, reaffirming, understanding, comforting. “Look, I know you don’t want to tell me about it, and that’s okay. But at least let me help you clean it up.”

Raising his head, he finally met her gaze and promptly had the breath stolen straight from his lungs. Under the soft light from his whiskey wall, he could see a thousand brilliant shades of blue in her eyes.

 

_ “I call this the ocean, Samael. What do you think?” _

_ He sat on the edge of a rocky cliff, gazing out at the endless shades of color breaking in the waters below. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the sweet mixture of salt, sea spray, and the pine trees surrounding them, mixed with the airy fragrance of the clouds above. His dark curls blew gently in the wind, the same breeze that crashed the waves together and guided the birds on the horizon and he shut his eyes for a moment, trying to see if he could piece together the picture again from behind his eyelids. _

_ “It’s beautiful, Dad.” _

 

Hesitantly, he nodded, gesturing to the first aid kit behind the bar. As she moved away, he found himself instantly missing the warmth of her hand in his. In a moment, she returned, and he stiffened at the feeling of her palm landing on his bare shoulder. “It’s okay,” she offered. “It’s just me.”

The plastic lid of the box snapped open, and Chloe began to carefully arrange the medical supplies on the lid of the piano. Gazing at the arrangement, she frowned. “It’s not much, but it’ll have to do,” she remarked. Taking a packet of antiseptic wipes, she turned to him once more. “I’m going to clean up the blood first, okay? It might sting a little.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Detective,” he smiled.

Laying her hand on his shoulder once more, she was surprised to find that he didn’t jerk upwards at the movement as he had before. Stepping back for a moment, she took in the severity of his injuries and felt tears forming in her eyes. The skin was marbled with patterned lines where his  _ wing -  _ scars were, and crossed gashes marked him from just below his shoulder blades down to his waist. Steadying herself with a breath, she began tracing a line down his back, trying to avoid startling him again. As she pressed the wipe down onto one of his many cuts, it elicited a barely audible yet pained hiss from between his teeth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  _ I’m so sorry this happened to you. _

After tending to the small wounds, she moved on to the larger areas, cleaning them and applying strips of gauze one by one. As she finished with the last cut, she moved her hand a bit too quickly from the region she was attending to, brushing the scar on his left shoulder blade. Withdrawing it quickly, she readied an apology, only to be cut off by the sight of the tension leaving his shoulders at her touch.

“It’s all right, Chloe.” It was barely audible, but a thick emotion was laced through his words as she paused a moment before carefully guiding her hand onto his back once more. With a feather-light touch, she pressed onto the edges of his scars, the feeling of the raised skin under her fingertips causing fresh tears to well in her eyes.

 

_ “There has to be a better way, Lucifer.” _

_ “I don’t care if there’s a better way, Maze. I won’t be reminded of the influence my father has on me each and every bloody day of the rest of my existence. Cut them off. Please.” _

 

Lucifer breathed in deeply, feeling the tension leave his muscles as Chloe grew more confident in her touches, paying careful attention to the small ridges and grooves he never knew he had. Turning his body around to interrupt the process, he gathered her hands in his - gentle this time, he reminded himself - and stood off of the bench, now more than a few inches taller than her.

Tucking a loose hair behind her ear, he brushed her cheek with his thumb, feeling her lean into his touch. Tilting her chin upwards to meet his eyes, he found no fear on her face - only an emotion he could not identify, masked by the tears that had begun to mark her cheekbones with their trail. The warmth that filled his chest threatened to explode, and he found himself leaning down until his forehead touched hers, lips millimeters away from brushing.

 

When had he begun to care so much for her?

She breathed in sharply, shutting her eyes against the thoughts that ran wild, creating an incessant pounding of her head - or was that her heartbeat?

Chloe placed her palm squarely on his chest and put firm pressure there, bringing her head away and giving herself room to think. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

He bowed his head, giving a small cough to clear his throat momentarily. “Yes, well, I’m- I’m not sure why I thought that would be a good idea. I apologize.”

_ Don’t apologize,  _ she thought.

“Well, listen. I’ll, um, leave the report here so you can look over it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

It was a question more than a statement.  _ Would things be the same tomorrow? _

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he smiled. “And thank you, Detective.”

With a small smile of her own, she stepped into the elevator as the doors took her out of view and into the night.

 

His phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts, and he picked it up without a second thought.

“Hello, son.”

A shiver raced down his spine at the voice on the end of the line - the voice he hadn’t heard in so long, the voice that tormented his dreams. With trembling hands, he set the phone gently back onto the marble counter and placed it on speaker. “How did you get this number?”

His mother gave a sharp laugh on the other end of the line. “I can find a specific person in a city of four million in the blink of an eye just by the scent of their soul. I escaped from the prison you forced me into before anyone knew I was even gone. Do you think tracking down a cell phone number was really a challenge?”

She paused for a moment, but continued before Lucifer had a chance to put a coherent reply together. “I know where you are, my son. I know your daily routine, the people you associate with, information about the club that you hide yourself away in.”

“And I know about your pet police officer.”

Blinding rage filled him and he hurled his whiskey glass against the wall, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces. “You don’t harm them, or anyone else for that matter. This is between you and me and we both know it,” he shouted.

“So you do have sympathy for the humans,” Charlotte laughed. “Good. It will make it much more fun when I take away everyone you care about one by one.”

And with that, she hung up, a sickening mix of dread and rage boiling over within the Devil’s chest. With a frustrated yell, he brought his fist down on the counter, creating a vicious crack in the polished black marble. It took him several moments to notice the hot tears that began to fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Wiping them away with his sleeve, he carefully placed his suit jacket over the back of the chair and straightened his shirt before rising from the bar and walking over to the elevator.

He pressed the call button and was greeted almost instantly by the waiting lift. As he stepped into the warm yellow glow of the elevator car, he fished his phone out of his pocket and left a voicemail for the one person he desperately needed to talk to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write, and it's a long one as a result. I hope it was worth the wait for those of you that are sticking with me through this! And thank you again for all your support, it's been amazing so far.


	7. Fallen Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to apologize in advance for this chapter. You've been warned, it gets sad in here.

Chloe ditched her shoes by the car and took the long stroll down to the beach, padding slowly towards the familiar figure of her partner near the shoreline. The sand was a fiery orange in the waning sunset, the birds dark silhouettes in the sky like a painting. When she reached him, she spoke quietly so as not to startle him. “Hey,” she greeted softly. “I saw your message that you would be here. No parties to entertain at Lux?”

Lucifer took a swig of his drink, and judging by the half-empty bottle next to him, he’d already had a few. “Well, the night doesn’t really get going until the sun goes down, anyway. But I had some more - pressing matters to attend to.” He gestured next to him and she took a seat in the soft sand.

“More pressing than your usual routine of alcohol and general debauchery?”

She knew something was very wrong when Lucifer went to laugh and instead found tears starting to form in his eyes. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "This is not how I thought this was going to go."

She reached over and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, giving a small laugh through his tears. "Where do I start?" He looked at her and she swore her heart broke into pieces at his expression - beaten down, cracked and vulnerable like she'd never seen him before.

He took a shaky breath, trying to steady his nerves, letting the sound of the waves on the shoreline fill the silence before beginning again.

 

"Listen, Detective- ". Another breath. "I called you here because I needed to have a serious conversation with you. And this is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done. So please bear with me here."

She nodded, and Lucifer continued.

"I really enjoy working with you and being a part of solving these cases and getting justice for the victims. It's given me a whole new perspective on life and human nature." He scoffed. "I thought I knew my job before I came here, but this has made it so much clearer."

He toyed with the buttons on his shirt, searching for a way to put his thoughts together. Once satisfied with the pieces, he continued. "But what's happened recently with Jimmy Barnes, Malcolm, and now my own mother - they've made me realize that my position here seems to be doing more harm than good. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything were to happen to you. Or Beatrice, for that matter," he added. The tears started to fall down his face now, unrestrained expressions of the thought he so desperately wanted to not be true:

 

"I think it would be best… if we parted ways for now, Chloe. I just don't think I can do this anymore."

 

Chloe felt as if she had been shot straight through the heart. She'd spent years witnessing heartbreak, even experiencing the worst of it herself. But at the moment, she couldn't fathom anything being worse than the pain that tore from his words straight through her. She searched his face and found him with sad eyes that couldn’t look in hers. The way he’d said her name had made her realize that he was completely serious and very truly saddened by the conclusion he’d come to - and it made her angry beyond comprehension.

As much as she denied it, she had feelings for Lucifer, although to what extent was still a debate she hadn’t had with herself just yet. He was a good man that was willing to give up everything, as she'd seen - for the safety and well-being of her and her daughter. And sure, he was an ass sometimes, but it brought them together more than it tore them apart, because she could roll with the punches and she was used to doing so. It felt good to have someone who treated her as an equal instead of an understudy, she had realized - she wasn't just another person to him - and he was just going to up and leave her at the first sign of trouble.

And she'd be damned if she was going down without a fight.

 

"I get it, Lucifer." She steeled herself against the emotions that were threatening to pour out, her voice coming out harsher than she intended as a result. He looked shocked more than anything at her statement.  “It’s so easy for you just to leave everything and walk away, isn’t it? It’s so easy to leave me behind.”

She wiped the tears that were now forming out of her eyes, blinding anger meted only by the clench of her heart at the saddened look on his face. “That’s all you’ve ever done. When things get hard to handle, you just leave because you’re afraid of attaching yourself to anything. You have this - this  _ complex  _ that nobody cares about you. Surprise for you, people do,” she softened. “I do.”

For a moment, she couldn't tell if he was more heartbroken or defiant, as his eyebrows arched in surprise and his jaw clenched tightly. But in the next second, he reached for her hand and she pulled away, unwilling to let the last defenses she’d built break. “It’s easier to leave than it is to see you get hurt.” 

“Don’t you understand?” she replied incredulously. “It’s the same thing, Lucifer. It hurts more to see you leave than anything I’ll go through with you here.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither willing to make the first move and both wanting the other to stay. Finally, the battle broke and Chloe stood from the soft sand. “I have to go.”

He nodded solemnly and raised what was left in his glass to her as a parting gesture. “Of course. Good night, Detective,” he replied, voice breaking. As she made the long walk up the beach to her car, she stopped to take in the sight of him on the beach, looking the picture of the fallen angel that he said he was.

She reached the black cruiser parked near the equipment rental shack and climbed in, taking a moment to draw in a deep breath and feeling tears begin to threaten at her eyes once again. This time, she didn’t deny them, and with an angry huff she slammed a hand down onto the top of the steering wheel as she began to cry uncontrollably.

 

Why did she feel so broken? 

How had he worked his way so far into her heart?

 

With the keys in the ignition but the engine not running, she noticed that the night was especially quiet except for the sounds of her quiet sobs inside the vehicle. When she first heard the noise, she thought perhaps she had bumped something with her elbow. When she stopped to look for what the offending object was, she heard the noise again, but this time it was unmistakable.

It was the sound of a pistol being fired - and close by.

Opening her car door, she saw Lucifer talking with a man down by the shore, but quickly realized something was wrong when the man dashed away and her partner grabbed at his chest. At first she thought perhaps he was laughing at something the man had said, but her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the telltale crimson stain beginning to spread across his white dress shirt.

He’d been shot.

 

She threw the car door open and sprinted down the boardwalk to the beach, taking the longest strides she could manage. The man who’d shot him turned to look her in the eyes, and for a moment she swore they held nothing but darkness. He turned and fled to the opposite side of the beach, but the detective couldn’t find the strength to abandon her partner and chase him off. As she hit the edge of the sand, her progress slowed considerably as the soft ground pulled at the soles of her boots, almost willing her not to continue. She could see Lucifer’s figure down where she had left him, now kneeling in the sand and likely gravely wounded.

With every step she took, her heartbeat rang louder in her ears until it was almost deafening. On his knees, the fallen angel saw her racing back towards him but was unable to call out to her. Trying to draw a breath, he realized that he couldn’t - at least one of the bullets had pierced his left lung, just inches from his heart. He placed a hand over the site of the injury and tried to staunch the bleeding momentarily. When he pulled it away, it was covered in bright, fresh blood. Losing his balance, he fell forward into the sand and began to struggle for breath.

The detective’s legs began to give out from under her as she ran the last few feet to where her partner was lying face down near the surf. Dropping to her knees, she lifted his shoulders and rolled him over so that he was on his back, feeling the water from the tide soak through her jeans. 

“No, no, no,” Chloe stammered. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, Lucifer.”

He tried to sit up and struggled again to speak, breath now ragged and uneven and coming mostly as a desperate attempt to take in air, but she laid him back down in the soft sand and placed a trembling hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. Looking at his wound, she could see a dark red stain beginning to spread out from his body towards the water’s edge. He shook his head sadly as they both realized that nothing could be done to help him.

His eyes went sad as he realized he couldn’t speak, not able to talk to her one last time. With a shaky breath, he removed her hand from on his shoulder and held it in his own. Tears began to form in her eyes as she watched his chest rise and fall rapidly below her. He studied her face for a moment before carefully reaching up with his other hand to wipe away the drops that rolled down her cheeks. 

  
  


“You’ll come back for me, right?”

  
  


And in that moment, the fallen angel felt the last of his heart shatter into a million pieces. Fighting to stay awake, he tried to memorize the scene in front of him - the one person he trusted, her hand in his and the fading sunlight on her face as a darkness began to blur his vision. He gave her one last smile before leaning his head back on the sand and allowing a deep rattling breath to pass through his lips as his hand dropped to his chest, intertwined with hers no more.

And as soon as it had happened, it was all over. There were no more breaths to be had and no more smiles to be shared, the only sound on the beach that of the tide crashing on the rocks nearby. The calm breeze ruffled his curls, blowing strands from his hairline down across his forehead, and she knew that he was gone. Barely stifling a sob, she gripped the collar of his shirt and brought her head down to his chest, willing him to breathe just one more time, willing his heart to beat just a bit longer. As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Chloe put her head in her hands and cried.

 

“I’m sorry.”

The tide began to come in, rushing up and touching the man that lay still by the water’s edge, and when it receded carried some of his blood across the sand in its wake. As it mixed with the next surge of the incoming waves, it tinted the water in the undertow a muted crimson.

  
  


 

 

 

When Lucifer awoke, everything was white.


	8. Home

It was a place he thought he would never see again, everything natural to him yet unfamiliar at the same time. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the overwhelming light surrounding him, but when they did he found himself standing at the base of a set of gleaming ivory marble stairs. Looking down, he noticed that he was barefoot, in the same white dress shirt and black slacks that he had been wearing back on the beach - only now the bloodstains were gone and each ripple in the fabric was perfectly pressed as if it had never been worn.

There was no furniture in this room to speak of, yet it felt warm and inviting, and he proceeded up the steps slowly, taking in his surroundings. When he reached the top, he found himself in a place he’d only been able to visit in his dreams since the Fall - the foot of his Father’s throne.

 

“Hello, my son. It’s been quite some time.”

 

In a time long ago, Lucifer would have bowed his head as a sign of respect for his Father - but times had changed, he decided. Instead, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and gave a sharp laugh, bitter and irritated. “You don’t say.”

His Father leaned forward in his chair, out of the blinding glow that came from behind him, now in full view of his son. “I sense much disdain in you, Samael.” 

Lucifer felt a jolt of disappointment run through him at hearing his old name once again. Hoping to drive down his emotion, he swallowed and clapped his hands together in mock amusement. “Well, that’s quite a surprise, isn’t it? You know, after you kicked me out of Heaven and made me the scapegoat for all of humanity’s wrongdoings?” Anger welled up inside of him but he couldn't seem to find the words to express it, even after the practice he’d had rehearsing what he would say to his father if he ever saw him again. He'd spent countless years in this very same situation, dream after dream - but somehow actually being here took the fight out of him. He ran a hand through his dark hair and began to rock back and forth on his toes as he continued. “By the way, why  _ did  _ you bring me back here? We both know it’s not to make small talk about the good you’ve done me for all these millennia. Or was it just to rub it in that one of mom’s minions finally did the job your angels couldn’t?”

 

_ He watched his detective move up the beach and away from him, the deep ache in his heart intensifying from the moment she’d pulled away. Shaking his head, he berated himself for having caused her so much pain - and here he thought putting a pause on their relationship was the best thing to do. _

_ Bringing himself to his feet, he brushed off his pants and collected the bottle of whiskey and the glass from the soft sand. As he started down the beach, a man in faded jeans and a hooded sweatshirt bumped his shoulder, startling him out of autopilot. _

_ “Pardon me,” Lucifer remarked quietly. _

_ “My bad,” the man replied, raising his head to allow the fading sunset to illuminate the facial features that had previously been obscured by his hood - black eyes and a hellish grin. “Or rather, your bad, isn’t it?”  _

_ Without preamble, the man reached into his waistband and drew a pistol, firing a shot into the left side of his chest. As the Devil looked down at the wound with a startled expression, the attacker fired again, the round impacting just inches from the previous one. _

_ “Your mother sends her regards,” he laughed, pulling the hood back over his eyes. _

 

 

The man in the chair leaned forward, concern marking his features. “You’ve always been a perceptive one, my son,” he remarked. “I brought you here to offer you a choice, Samael.”

The fallen angel scoffed. “That’s not my name anymore.”

“It may not be the one you use, but it’s the name I gave you.” He leaned forward in his chair, the ghost of a smile lighting his face. "You know, the name you adopted means something much more positive than the one you were born with. I find that - fitting." He waved his hand to dismiss the matter as he continued. “But as I said, I am offering you a choice. I’ve been watching you in your time on Earth, and I think it has changed you more than you know. I’ve seen the compassion you once had return, the energy and the affection that I once knew from my favorite son.”

Lucifer swallowed, old hurt welling up in the back of his throat like a hot coal that he couldn’t put out.

“I also know that a part of you longs to return home, although where that  _ is _ seems to depend on the time of day with you,” he laughed. “But as you know, your mother is still very much a danger to the life you’ve taken a liking to on Earth - and the people you’ve come to care about.”

Panic gripped Lucifer as he realized that Chloe was alone without him in the middle of a case that more than likely revolved around his mother - and that put her and Trixie and everyone close to them in grave danger.

“I know how much they mean to you, and I want to see you happy with them if that is the life you choose, however I still need you to return your mother to Hell - for  _ our _ sake as well as theirs. But you can continue with that task here, with the aid of your brothers and sisters as you see fit,” he offered. “Or, you can go back to Earth and finish the task on the mortal plane - although that choice will have its consequences."

Lucifer’s heart felt as if it was being torn apart. He longed so dearly to be reunited with the family he’d known in Heaven, all those he’d missed for time immeasurable, to fly among the rest of the angels again and to bring light to the night sky as he once did. But he realized that he had a family back on Earth that was in real and present danger from a force they could not fight alone. He thought of the two people he’d come to care immensely for, and he knew there was only one choice he could make. 

“I want to go back, Dad.”

His Father looked surprised, and there was a touch of sadness behind his eyes that was hardly detectable yet present. “I wouldn’t have expected less from you, son, knowing what I do now about your attachment to these humans. I have to say I'm a bit disappointed, but very well. I trust you made an educated decision.”

He stepped off of his throne and approached his son. With most of the radiant glow gone from behind him, Lucifer could see that he had aged noticeably from before the Fall - the lines on his face more prominent than they once were and his posture perhaps a bit more bent than it had been. “What’s to become of me when I die?” he asked gently.

“Your choices in life from this point forward will determine where you end up. And for every year you spend on Earth, you will age as a mortal would.” He paused for a moment, smiling down on his favorite son. “But know that I would be happy to see you again soon, Lucifer.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he gave a polite bow of his head and descended the staircase, the hurt he'd harbored for years finally coming to the surface. When he reached the bottom, he felt as if the floor was spinning around him, suddenly unable to keep his balance, and then he was falling again.

  
  
  


On the beach, he breathed, the night air rushing back into his healed chest as he sat up with a jolt, staring straight into Chloe’s eyes as if he had never left. She looked at him, unable to process what had just happened, some unnamed and raw emotion in her eyes. Lucifer gave a quiet cough and brushed some sand off of his shirt.

“Well, I suppose this is a bit of a shock, then.”


	9. Risen from Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it gets good, promise. Thank you for sticking with me so far, I really hope you like these next few chapters!

Chloe scrambled back a few steps across the sand, trying desperately to understand how he had died and come back to life -  _ again,  _ she reminded herself. She’d heard the moment his heart stopped beating, and yet here he was, sitting up and making jokes like the whole damned thing hadn’t just happened. “What the hell?”

He slowly got to his feet and began to take careful steps towards her, and in response she stood up and closed the gap between them with a solid two-armed push, sending him toppling into the sand again. “Now what was that for?” he shouted.

She stood over him as he crossed his arms angrily. “Don’t you give me that look,” she chastised. “You have no right to be the angry one here. For God’s sake, you just died, Lucifer! I felt you stop breathing, your heart stopped, you bled out onto the sand over there! Explain to me how this is happening again!”

“Do you really think I had a choice? Did I ask that man to gun me down?”

Chloe stomped her foot, sending a small plume of soft sand shooting upwards. “How would I know? I can’t ever be sure with you anymore.”

She turned to walk away but before she knew it his hand was firmly placed around her wrist, spinning her back to face him. When she looked back, he had tears in his eyes once more. “Please, don’t go. I’m sorry.”

He released his grip on her arm but she still continued to stand at a distance from him, distress written across her face. “I know you’re scared and confused but so am I, Chloe. Please.”

She shook her head gently and turned to walk up the beach, and this time he didn’t try to follow her. He ran his hand over his mouth in frustration as the black cruiser pulled out of its parking spot and down the road, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his chest that was no longer a result of a gunshot wound. Tears stung his eyes as pain turned to rage, and he picked up the nearest rock and hurled it as far as he could out to sea with an angry shout, watching the stone disappear out of sight among the waves.

_ I’ve lost her,  _ he thought sadly.  _ The one person who I thought understood. _

He collapsed in the sand, his emotions threatening to overflow and spill out of his head all at once.

_ She doesn't need you, _ his brain sneered.  _ She left, just like everyone else. _

 

_ And there will always be someone else. Another blonde or brunette, another woman desperate for a good time. _

 

Burying his head in his hands, he pushed hard against his temples to try and force the pressure of his thoughts back, turning his vision white with the heels of his palms. Colors danced in his vision, shades of the anger he harbored - red, auburn, charcoal grey, and gold.

_ Gold _ .  _ The color of her hair in the light,  _ he remembered.

_ “I’m here for you.” _

_ “Thought you could use a friend.” _

_ “Maybe us - our thing - maybe it goes beyond just work.” _

_ “Okay, you win. We’re partners.” _

_ “I actually really like working with you.” _

_ “I can let my guard down with you. I don’t do that with anyone else.” _

 

There would always be someone else.

 

But they would never be her.

Taking a handful of the loose grains in his hand, he watched as the sand ran between his fingers and back down to the beach where it had come from. All at once, the feelings blending together in his head aligned and presented him with a conclusion he was powerless to deny.

With a chuckle, he shook his head and began the long walk down the beach to where he had parked his car.  _ I should bloody well have known. _

When he reached the end of the boardwalk, he was surprised to find that his Corvette was nowhere to be found. Checking his pocket, he realized that he didn’t even have his keys - whether they were in the sand back at the beach or in the thief’s pocket was a different story altogether. Frustrated, he gave the curb a sound kick, scuffing the toe of his leather dress shoes and sending a large crack through the concrete block.

He heard a noise behind him and spun around, but came face to face with nothing but air. With an exasperated sigh, he retrieved his phone from his pocket and started to dial the detective. Holding it to his ear, he was met with only a dial tone. When he went to hang up, he got the faintest glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye before everything went dark and he felt himself falling once more.

  
  


 

Chloe was about halfway home when her phone rang. Fumbling with it for a moment, she managed to answer and put it on speaker phone so she could continue to focus on driving. “Decker.”

“Detective, nice of you to answer my calls after our squabble earlier,” a familiar voice purred on the other end of the line - unbeknownst to the Detective however, back at Lux, Lucifer was struggling against his restraints as his mother pressed his phone against his ear, forcing him into telling her the information she fed him.

“Did you need something, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Regarding the  _ events  _ of earlier, um -” Charlotte gave him a swat, twirling Maze’s dagger in her hand in case he got any ideas about calling for help. “Can we talk about it at Lux at your earliest convenience?”

Chloe sighed. “Fine. But when I get there you’d better have something to tell me that’s worth my time.” She hung up with a sound click before he could send back any snide comments. Maneuvering her car across several lanes, she took the nearest left and eased into the flow of traffic on the streets headed for downtown.

Charlotte laughed as the line went silent, knowing she’d succeeded at the final part of her plan. Dropping her son’s phone onto the ground, she crushed the screen in firmly with the heel of her stiletto, ensuring nothing would interrupt the events that were to follow.

  
  


Lucifer’s car was parked in its usual spot in front of Lux when she pulled up, slipping quietly in the side door as she’d done on many other occasions.

The first thing she noticed was that it was eerily quiet. Maze was nowhere to be seen, the bar empty of patrons, and no music playing through the speaker system. The detective climbed the stairs to the penthouse, opting to skip the unnecessary hassle of waiting for the elevator this time around. When she arrived on the second level, she was met with a horrible sight - her partner, tied up tightly to a chair, and from the looks of it badly beaten and bruised from a struggle. The back and shoulders of his shirt were ripped, almost as if he’d been dragged some distance across a hard surface, and the front was still bloodied from before - she hoped. His head was on his chest and she quickly crossed the room, hoping he was resting it there and not badly injured.

“Lucifer?”

He raised his head in alarm at hearing her voice, his eyes instantly widening in fright.

“Chloe, what are you doing here? You need to leave, now!”

“You called me, so I came back, how - what happened to you?” She rushed to his side, concern evident in her face.

“Ssh, quiet,” he chided. He took a moment to peek over his shoulders, straining to see if his mother had heard the detective’s arrival. “Never mind that. You need to get out of here, now. It’s not safe. If you’re still here when she comes back - “ He trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

“Who’s  _ she _ ?” Chloe questioned. Seeing the look on his face, she realized who he was talking about. “It’s your mother, isn’t it?”

He nodded and tried to protest again, but she cut him off. “Shut up and let me help you! We’re getting out of here.” She looked around for anything she could cut a hole through the rope with, and settled on a large corkscrew on top of the bar. But no matter how hard she pushed, the ropes wouldn’t cut and she ended up bending the corkscrew. “Do you have anything with an actual blade around here, damn it?”

Lucifer smiled sadly. “You can’t cut me out of these, Chloe. They’re immune to any cutting tools of this world. You’d have to find one of Maze’s daggers, and those are in the other room where she is. Just please, go before you get hurt.”

Her heart sank at the realization that she couldn’t help him, and settled on taking one of his hands in hers. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

He tried his best to put on a brave face, knowing that he couldn’t  _ promise _ anything. “I’ll be okay, Chloe. But-” His voice broke as he fought back the lump in his throat. “But I won’t be if something happens to you, so you need to go. I can’t lose you.”

She stood shocked for a moment, processing what he had just said, mind screaming at her to stay. But her feet began to follow orders as she made her way to the elevator and pressed the call button. When nothing happened, she pressed it again. When the button failed to light up for the third time, she heard a laugh over her shoulder.

 

“Leaving so soon, Detective Decker? Why, the party’s just started,” Charlotte taunted.

 

She made her way down the hall, calmly but with an air of danger surrounding her. Chloe’s heart beat faster in her chest as she approached, carrying one of Maze’s daggers threateningly. “We’re about to find out just how much my son wants to live,” she smiled. As she reached the end of the hall and took her place at the bar, she poured herself a glass of very expensive-looking whiskey. “I think this is an occasion to celebrate,” she teased. “Can I get you a glass?”

Chloe shook her head, legs paralyzed with fear. She had to remind herself to breathe, as she realized it wouldn’t be a good idea to get short of breath in the coming few minutes. She had a bad feeling about the rest of the night.

“Not very talkative, are you? Pity, I would have liked to hear what my son has told you about me. But no matter. Let’s get straight to the man of the hour, shall we?”

She circled Lucifer’s chair, like a vulture closing in on its prey. He avoided her gaze, instead staring defiantly into space. She realized what he was doing, and in one quick motion placed herself squarely in front of him and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “It’s not very nice to ignore people, Luci. Have I taught you no manners?”

He jerked away from her and she released his chin in frustration. “Fine, be that way. It’s only going to make this harder for you.” She strode over to the bar and put down the dagger she’d been holding, and Lucifer seemed to relax a bit knowing she couldn’t do him too much damage just by herself. Taking another drink of the whiskey, she set the glass down and began her interrogation anew - this time adopting a dangerous intensity.

“No point avoiding the matter any more,” she suggested. “So let’s find out - what do  _ you _ want most, Luci? Remember that old trick?” She laughed and brushed her hair back over her shoulder where it had fallen forward. “Because I’m going to take that very thing away from you, and make you watch as I do it,” she sneered. “It’s only fair, my son. After what you did to me, locking me up all those years. So, let’s start with the who, shall we - someone you would be devastated to lose? Someone you truly care about?”

 

Chloe watched him fight, but if his mother’s persuasion was anything like his, he wouldn’t be able to resist telling her what she wanted to know. She remembered all the times he’d managed to coax even the most stubborn of victims into talking, and wondered just what it was like to be subjected to that kind of intrusion.

For a moment, he continued to fight against her, pushing his mother out - but eventually he couldn’t take it any more. Chloe’s heart sank as his gaze slowly drifted over to her, pained and sad all at once, knowing what danger his admission put her in but incapable of stopping himself.

Her breath caught in her throat - he  _ cared _ about her.

Charlotte laughed, and the detective felt a shiver race down her spine. “I should have known it would be her.”

She circled Lucifer, taunting him, willing him to try and escape but knowing that he couldn’t. “Let’s find out how she reacts to the real you,” she purred. He fought against his restraints, pulling and twisting as much as he possibly could to get free. “Now, now. Don’t be fussy.” With a low and menacing chuckle, she raked one of her nails across the side of his face, opening a small gash just in front of his ear. He winced in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw so tightly Chloe could see the individual muscles as they strained against the pressure. He opened his mouth to shout something, but all that came out was the sharp exhale of his breath, a consequence of the pain. At her touch, the skin on his face began to turn red - not from the scratch, but a dark and burning crimson that began to spread from cheek to cheek, skin peeling back to reveal a mass of charred and burning muscle, and eyes that were filled with fire and a blackness like nothing she'd ever seen.

His mother laughed, and Chloe looked away in horror, taking several large steps backwards. She felt her breath ragged in her chest as the  _ thing _ that used to be Lucifer stared back at her.  _ It’s not him. It’s not real.  _ When he looked at her and began to chuckle himself Chloe felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was all true. He was the Devil, angels and demons existed, God existed - but the Lucifer she knew wouldn’t hurt her. Frankly though, she had no idea what would happen to her if his mother continued to get her way.

The woman reached behind him and untied his restraints, and the Devil rose slowly out of his chair. He rolled his shoulders, using his height to its full imposing advantage, towering over the detective. With a menacing crack of his neck, he looked her squarely in the eyes. And then he smiled, pure evil and malice, and on panic Chloe grabbed for her gun in the holster - only to find that it wasn’t there.

Charlotte chuckled and produced the weapon from behind her back, spinning the small pistol on her index finger. “Looking for something, Detective?” With a grin, she handed it to her son. “I think it would be better suited in his hands anyway. You seem to be an awfully poor shot since you already nicked him once.”

Lucifer flicked the safety off on the gun, everyone in the room acutely aware that it was fully loaded and ready to fire. He leveled it at her, a steady grip and shooting stance, and Chloe raised her hands in surrender. “Don’t do this, Lucifer. I know it’s not you, okay? You have to fight this, you’re stronger than she is,” she pleaded.

His mother laughed and took a sip of the whiskey glass Lucifer had left on the bar, and picked up the dagger that she had procured from the penthouse. The Devil released his aim on the gun, shouldering it to wait for his command. Charlotte put the glass down and began to absentmindedly spin the otherworldly blade in her hands.

“I’m getting bored of this nonsense, darling.” She waved her hand dismissively at Lucifer, encouraging him to go ahead.

 

“Kill her.”


	10. Flashover

He took a step closer and Chloe knew she had to make a move fast. Looking around at her surroundings, she could see that there was a gap just between the bar and the wall where she could perhaps mount a counterattack. Lucifer leveled the gun at her again, and she dove across the marble floors as he squeezed the trigger, hearing the round impact the wall just behind her.

He fired the second and third rounds into the whiskey wall just above where she was crouched, and Chloe felt the spray as some of the bottles exploded and fell off the wall in pieces. She threw her hand over her mouth to muffle the cry of pain that she gave as her knee came down on a piece of broken glass, the sharp edge cutting through her pants and embedding itself in the skin beyond them. She removed the small secondary pistol from her boot and opted to peek around the corner of the bar instead of over top of it where she knew he was aiming. Lucifer had stopped firing, perhaps thinking that his mission had been accomplished. His mother peered over the counter, still not seeing where she was hidden on the outside corner, and gave a sigh, still fiddling with Maze’s dagger. “Well, did you hit her or not?”

Chloe squeaked out a muffled breath, trying as hard as she could not to make a sound and thinking of what she was possibly going to do next. From where she was, she could see a large kitchen knife situated just out of reach next to a tub of ice and an assortment of sliced limes, lemons, and oranges - far be it for Maze to leave the bar fully unattended. Maybe she could use that -  _ no _ , she reminded herself.  _ You don’t want to kill him, just snap him out of it. _

An idea came to her as the sound of Lucifer’s footsteps on the floor grew closer to her hiding spot. She had no proof that any of what she had planned was going to work - but it was better than being mercilessly executed by her partner at point-blank range.

When the toe of his shoe peeked around the corner, she reached a hand out and grasped his ankle firmly, twisting it in place, and with her leg kicked his knee out from under him. With a thud, he crashed to the ground and the gun skittered away across the floor. His head impacted the tile with a sickening crack and he shouted in pain. With the immediate threat down for the moment, Chloe rose up from the corner and fired a shot at his mother, who simply plucked the bullet out of the air and tossed it aside.

She rose from her barstool, now fully aware of where the detective was hiding. “Foolish human. You’re brave, I’ll give you that,” she reprimanded. “It’s a shame my son won’t get to see you go down fighting.”

Chloe began to peek out around the corner, but then felt an arm wrap around hers and pull her back into hiding. She turned to look at Lucifer, who was now bleeding from the side of his head - and although his skin was still unnaturally red and charred, his eyes had returned to his normal warm brown. He held a hand up to his lips and gestured for Chloe to hand him the pistol. She placed it in his hand and he could see the look of pure terror on her face. Reassuringly, he brushed a strand of loose hair out of her face and rose from behind the bar with his back to his mother.

Holding up a hand to stop her from coming any closer, he gave a smirk and fired a shot from the snub pistol about a foot to the right of where Chloe was sitting. She tried not to jump, heart racing at the close distance the bullet had impacted from her, but instead slumped down, playing along with his game, her feet now sticking out from behind the black marble, appearing lifeless and unmoving.

His mother sighed deeply and rose from her seat at the bar, coming around to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Luci. It was for your own good, you must understand.”

He gave his mother a charming grin and nudged Chloe’s foot with his shoe, reassuring her that he had the situation under control. “Yes, Mother,” he retorted casually.

“I suppose it’s time for the main event then,” she sighed, and held up one of Maze’s daggers. “You realize I can’t go back to Hell, son. That’s your home, not mine.”

Lucifer turned to her, and with a wicked smile and a blink restored his human appearance about him. His eyes still burned with rage, but they no longer bore the flames that had been present earlier. “I guess we’ll find out.”

And then he turned, pressing the gun to her chest and firing a shot. She gasped and clutched at her chest, though no wound was present – she was as invulnerable as he used to be to human weapons - as Chloe slid out from behind the bar, almost as if she could read his thoughts, tripping his mother as she went. Charlotte swung the dagger at Lucifer as she fell, driving it towards his chest, but he skillfully parried the blow and sent the dagger clattering away.

Chloe scrambled across to where it had fallen and Lucifer struggled to hold his mother down, a knee on the small of her back and arms pinning her down with all the strength he could muster. “You have to do this quick, Chloe,” he shouted. “I can’t hold her for much longer.”

Retrieving the blade, the detective grasped it in her fingers and aligned it in the center of his mother’s back, giving her partner a shove backwards before driving the dagger down with lethal force. As the weapon made contact, there was a flash of blinding light and in a moment Lucifer’s arms were around her, shielding her face from the rays. With a rush of air, the light faded out and the room was quiet once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for badass Chloe, what can I say? One more chapter to go here, and hopefully it'll be worth the wait. Thank you so much for your support on this work so far, you guys are really amazing.


	11. Aftermath

“Lucifer, it’s okay. You can let go now.”

He hadn’t realized he was still holding tightly onto Chloe, and he released his grip a bit sheepishly. “Right. Sorry about that.”

Lucifer took a moment to steady himself before rising to his feet, offering a hand to the detective to help her stand as well. Looking down on the scene, all that remained of the ordeal was a small pile of black ash - and the faint smell of rose perfume and burnt wood. He ran a hand through his hair, giving a slight hiss as he touched the new gash at the top of his forehead.

“Sorry, that one was my fault,” Chloe offered.

“Well, it appears you certainly did a number on me. Good on you.” His voice broke a bit as he tried to give a comeback, and as if realizing something he turned from her, hiding his face rather pointedly as he remembered the look of terror on her face – the way she’d been afraid of him.

 

_ How could she possibly see him the same way now? _

“Well, I suppose you’re probably going to want to leave right about now. As for me, I’ll be having many drinks and trying to forget the whole thing.” He sighed. “It has assuredly been one  _ hell  _ of a night.”

With his back still turned, he strode behind the bar and plucked a very old and probably very expensive bottle of whiskey from up on the shelf and uncorked it. Realizing that he couldn’t efficiently grab a glass without turning back around, he muttered a curse under his breath and pretended to search for something under the counter.

 

“Lucifer, stop.”

He stood and tentatively glanced over his right shoulder. “Stop what?”

“Look at me.”

 

He let out a hissing breath through his teeth and grudgingly turned to face her, now resolving himself to stare pointedly at his shoes. After a moment, he raised his chin with one long, slow blink and met her eyes across the bar. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

“Yeah, me neither,” she answered softly. “So let’s figure it out.”

He smiled sadly and she could see a small tear running down his right cheek, one that undoubtedly he was hoping she wouldn’t notice. “You’re a better actress than I gave you credit for, Detective.” He wiped the tear away under the guise of pinching the bridge of his nose, and stuffed his hands in his pockets before leaning on the back counter. “It takes real courage to put on a brave face when you’re clearly terrified.”

She shook her head, brows narrowed in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

Finally locating a glass and pouring himself a drink, he took a small sip before continuing. “After all I’ve done to you, all the hurt I’ve put you through, nothing I’ve ever been afraid of compares to the look in your eyes when you saw my true face. You were scared - scared of me and what you thought I was going to do to you,” he managed. “And now I know you think the same of me that everyone else in this bloody world does. Everything I touch turns to darkness, Chloe. I’m a monster,” he croaked. “And nobody could ever love a monster.”

 

The detective felt an ache in her heart for the broken man standing in front of her. She believed him now - all the Devil nonsense, his vengeful mother, his demon bartender  _ that had taken care of her child  _ \- but she also believed in what he had done for her. Sure, he flirted with everything that had a pulse and was stubborn and insufferable sometimes. But there was something much deeper to him - a kindness and passion for doing the right thing that was inextinguishable, a gentle compassion for her and her daughter, and beneath it all a broken man that deserved to be repaired. And with him standing in front of her now, all his pieces out on the table and his soul on display, she knew that fixing it was the right thing to do for both of them.

 

“I do.”

 

He gave a laugh and then a small sniffle. “That’s just the shock playing tricks on your emotions, love.”

She stood from her chair and moved over to his piano. Taking a seat on the bench, she searched the keys for an idea - and quickly found one. Stretching her fingers like a practiced pianist, she found the correct octave and gently began to tap out a melody, one key at a time just like she remembered.

_ Heart and soul, I fell in love with you, _

_ Heart and soul, the way a fool would do _

 

Lucifer moved from behind the bar and cautiously approached the piano as Chloe finished the verse. Abandoning the keys for a moment, she peered up at him and he could see that her own eyes had tears forming in them. She willed him to understand what she was trying to say.

_ Remember this, remember us. Believe me, please. _

Taking a seat next to her, he took a shaky breath before brushing a loose curl out of her face. “You  _ do _ care, don’t you?”

As he pulled his hand away, she took it in hers before he could settle it in his lap again and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I do,” she breathed. “I didn’t know it before, but I do now, I-” She sighed, feeling the weight that had been on her shoulders for so long begin to rise to the surface.

 

“I ended things with Dan because I caught him cheating on me.  Part of me wanted to stay to make things normal for our daughter, but the rational part of me knew I couldn’t. After that I was so afraid of losing something like that again that I tried so hard to forget what emotions felt like. And when I met you, I didn’t know what to expect. You were -  _ are _ ,” she corrected herself, “a playboy with a short attention span, and I’ve never known you to have a meaningful relationship with anyone beyond a one-night stand. But  _ this  _ side of you,” she continued. “This side of you I’ve found myself falling for. And it scares me to death because some part of me keeps telling me that I wouldn’t be anything more than any of the others.”

He shook his head and tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “You could never be just another person to me, Chloe. I mean that with all of my heart,” he whispered.

She placed a hand on his chest and gave him a small push. “Let me finish,” she sniffled. “But now I know better. Look, if I wanted to leave I would have. But I’m here, okay? You’re hurt, Lucifer. I understand that. And maybe you messed up, but everybody makes mistakes. Just know that I’m not afraid of you. As much as you try to hide it, you’re a good person.” With an emotional smile, she looked him in the eyes once more. “And I care about you, damn it.”

And when she looked at him, she knew felt the same way - even if he couldn’t - or  _ wouldn’t  _ \- say it back. It was in his eyes as he looked down at her and in the gentle way he brought his hand up to trace her cheek with the tip of his thumb. It was the same look he’d been giving her almost since the day they met, and even though they were both just realizing what it meant, some part of him probably still denied it.

Lucifer blinked, trying to process what he’d heard and simultaneously memorizing the sound of it in his ears. Unwilling to break her gaze, he smiled, warm and real and truly happy - maybe for the first time in his life. “What have I ever done to deserve someone like you, Chloe Decker?”

She laughed despite the tears streaming down her cheeks and reached up to run a hand gently through his dark hair, brushing the loose curls away from his forehead. “I don't know, but I’d say you've done a pretty good job so far.” Before she thought better of it, she reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, smoothly pulling him down closer to her, inches away from kissing him - only to be stifled by the sound of her cell phone ringing in her back pocket. With a frustrated sigh, she pulled away and checked the caller ID as Lucifer chuckled at the terrible timing.

“It’s Trixie’s sitter, I’ve got to go,” she apologized. 

Lucifer gave a weak smile and raised his glass to her as she turned for the elevator. “Good night, Detective,” he offered warmly. 

After a moment, Chloe thought better of leaving and instead came around to brush her lips softly against his temple. With a smile, she stood and faced the very surprised Devil. “Good night, Lucifer.” And with that, she was gone, the doors of his penthouse elevator obscuring her from his view as the feeling of her kiss lingered on his skin with a dull tingle. 

He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing himself to remember what his world had been like without her - the wasted time and monotony of it all blending into a haze of things easily forgotten - and all the unspoken feelings and emotions finally became clear to him.

 

_ I’m in love with her. _

_ But did she feel the same way? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, eleven chapters later! I hope you all enjoyed this, your comments and support have been incredible along the way. Here's to season 2, we made it!


End file.
